


i don't know where to put my hands

by araki_iasip



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Dennis is scared, Gen, M/M, Mac is dating, Panic Attacks, Pining, there's references to nature channel?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 02:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araki_iasip/pseuds/araki_iasip
Summary: It was 3:27 am, the last time Dennis checked his watch, which meant that Mac has been out for approximately 6 hours.





	i don't know where to put my hands

**Author's Note:**

> in response to prompts: “Why are you shaking?” and “Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything.”

It was 3:27 am, the last time Dennis checked his watch, which meant that Mac has been out for approximately 6 hours.

He was on a date with some asshole named Sean, who appeared from the grindr profile that Mac had gleefully waved in his face over their shared cartons of Chinese takeout earlier that night, to be all of 25 years old, and, undeniably, a total beefcake. When Dennis had made some snide remark about the kid probably needing to be home in time for curfew, Mac had just laughed it off in between mouthfuls of vegetable lo mein (stolen from Dennis’s plate), his eyes scrunching up at the edges. It made him look younger, somehow, vulnerable. Dennis had stared at the table.

Mac had bounced out the door donning a dark green t-shirt, sheer and fitted so it clung to his muscles. Mac’s hair was soft, ruffled, and he looked more confident and at ease than Dennis had seen him in years, casting a bright smile over his shoulder while Dennis not to wait up for him. Dennis had nodded. Dennis had counted the beer stains on the beige living room carpet. Dennis had thrown a mug against the wall. Dennis had cut his fingers picking up the tiny pieces of china that covered the kitchen floor. Dennis had paced the length of the apartment over and over for approximately 45 minutes.

Inevitably, Dennis finds himself awake in the middle of the goddamn night, taking generous swigs from a bottle of whiskey he had unearthed from the depths of the kitchen cabinet, and flipping aimlessly through channels featuring scantily clad women on a quest to find their soulmate while jump-starting their model careers and rich housewives whose faces were more plastic than flesh and bone- who talked too much but said nothing. He ultimately settled on some nature channel showing a series that documented different species of birds. Tonight, they were talking about blue jays, he noticed, watching as one of the stern-looking little birds soared across his screen to settle on a tree branch next to another.

Blue jays mate for life, apparently. Dennis hadn’t known that. The soft drone of the narrator served as adequate background noise for Dennis’s increasingly loud, alcohol-fueled thoughts.

It was fucking ridiculous, really. Dennis knew Mac had been with men in the past, so he really shouldn’t be so fixated on the happenings of Mac’s date. For all the grief Dennis gives him, he realizes that Mac is an objectively attractive man, and now that he’s happily out of the closet, there’s no reason he shouldn’t be out playing the field, catching up on the feelings and experiences he’d pretended not to want for the past thirty years, embracing the parts of himself he’d tucked carefully away from the outside world (or only acknowledged in the dim backrooms of seedy bars, caught in the middle of glittering crowds of moving bodies on the dance floor, drunk enough for a moment that he forgot what he was so afraid of in the first place, under some spell that inevitably broke the next morning. This thought makes Dennis’s chest constrict sharply, a dull, aching feeling he can’t quite pinpoint).

But now, Mac was healing. Mac was growing. Mac was out with a man with dimples and a six pack who was probably laughing at all of his stupid jokes, touching his arms lightly as he leaned in to whisper something in his ear, making Mac’s cheeks flush and his eyes gleam in the same way they would whenever Dennis would dole out a rare compliment or words of praise. Mac was out with a man who presumably had a career and goals and real adult relationships, who could wake up in the morning and eat three meals a day like it was nothing, who would probably call Mac baby when he’s sober and let Mac hold his hand; someone who wouldn’t lash out at him with unnecessarily sharp words, but would make him feel good about himself, who would give him Valentine’s presents and stay to make him breakfast in the morning. Mac would like that, Dennis thought.

Dennis pictures Mac as he always looked first thing in the morning padding quietly out of his bedroom blurry eyed and sleep-soft, expression warming when he lays eyes on Dennis. Imagines someone else seeing him like that every day. Dennis thinks of getting drunk with Mac, leaning heavily against his shoulder on countless late night walks home from the bar, peering up under his lashes to catch a glimpse of Mac’s face; his gelled hair falling messily across his forehead, mouth open in concentration on getting them both home in one piece. The smell of his old leather jacket mixing with his dollar store shampoo and cologne samples ripped from men’s magazines, his arm tightening around his waist when Dennis inevitably stumbled over an empty beer bottle or groove in the sidewalk.

He thinks of Mac as a teenager: the two of them sitting silently in his room after his father went to prison for the second time, Mac’s arms circled tight around knees, his gaze fixed vacantly on the paint peeling off his bedroom wall, sitting closely enough that the outside of their thighs just touched. He thinks of Mac as he might be when he’s older, with more specks of gray painting his dark hair, more wrinkles around his eyes, but with the same unchanging, almost childish smile.Thinks again of Mac dating, maybe even getting married, someday. Growing old with someone.

At this point, Dennis realizes he is having difficulty breathing, his breaths coming out shorter and quicker than they normally would, his heart beating so loudly he swears it echoes in his ears. The adrenaline sets in. Dennis goes to take another swig of whiskey to calm himself down, before he notices the bottle is empty. Fuck. He immediately senses that has to get out. He has to get out of this fucking apartment and flee to somewhere, anywhere else. He is vaguely considering going to the 7-11 down the street to pick up a 12 pack of beer, and at least burn off all this weird fucking nervous energy when his thoughts are interrupted by sound of the front door opening.

Mac’s moving as quietly as possible, as if trying not to wake anyone up. Painted in the yellow light from the hallway, he kicks his shoes off and gently sets his keys on the kitchen counter, before he notices Dennis sitting on the sofa.

“Jesus Christ, Dude! I had no idea you were awake,” he all but squawks “Fuck, man, you almost gave me a heart attack”

“Sorry,” Dennis offers, tonelessly.

Mac exhales through a tired grin, stifling a yawn with his fist as he steps closer to Dennis, flinging himself into a chair opposite the couch and stretching his arms over his head. Dennis’s gaze lingers the curve of his upper arm, his fingers resting lightly against the back of the chair.

“Oh man, at first I was super worried I was gonna get catfished, and it was gonna turn out to be like a gross old woman or some shit like you see on tv, you know?” Mac makes a disgusted face, lip curling up dramatically before laughing. “But then I get to the Rainbow and it turns out Sean is like. An actual personal trainer, and he sells his own line of like, protein shakes, I think? And like, I’m pretty ripped dude, but I mean this dude is absolutely shredded, like way more bigger in person than the pictures.”

As Mac proceeds to talk more about his date (who apparently had been very interested in watching Mac’s Project Badass tapes, though Dennis expected this was mostly to get into his pants), Dennis finds his focus drifting. Mac has a stray piece of glitter decorating the skin just above the collar of his t-shirt, Dennis notices absently, glimmering mildly in the faintly lit room, and drawing attention to the part of his body where the meat of his neck meets collarbone, surprisingly delicate.

Dennis looks down at the floor, then forces his eyes back on the tv screen, barely registering the shapes of the tiny, brightly colored creatures collecting twigs to build their nest together. Vaguely, Dennis wonders what would happen if something went wrong. If nature maybe fucks up now and then and one of the birds can’t figure out how to build nests properly, was born without the instinct, or just doesn’t know what to do when the time comes, and he fucks it all up? What happens to him then? Does he just fly away?

Mac must notice that something is off, because he stops talking.

“Dennis. Dennis dude, are you okay?” He looks genuinely confused, as his gaze skates across Dennis’s face. Suddenly his eyes widen, his brow creasing with worry.

“Dennis? Why are you shaking?”

Was he? Dennis hadn’t noticed.

“I’m going to get you a blanket, man. Just wait here a second.” Mac’s wringing his hands, biting his lip as he stares at him earnestly, like he does when he realizes Dennis hasn’t eaten all day or when Dennis finally emerges from the bathroom after having locked himself inside for the better part of the night.

The softness, the sincerity of the expression makes something in Dennis snap, and all he hears is static electricity, all he sees is red. Just as Mac turns to go get the blanket from his room, Dennis calls out to him:

“So fucking typical isn’t it? You’re so desperate for affection you’ll open your legs for the first decently attractive person who gives you the time of day, as if they actually give a shit about you” he punctuates the sentence with a cold, strangely strangled sounding laugh, schooling his expression into one of mock pity.

“ Anyway, this guy was probably just bored, looking for a quick lay to kill some time. Absolutely pathetic.”

Mac freezes from his position in the doorway, his back stiffening, and Dennis’s entire body goes suddenly cold with dread. But Mac just stands there, with his back to Dennis, as the seconds tick unbearably onward.

“Come on!” Dennis croaks, desperate now to evoke some kind of reaction. “Yell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything!”

Mac turns slowly back to face Dennis, and when he does, Dennis sees an array of emotions plastered on his face; there’s pain etched into his features, and anger, but worst of all there’s this strange acceptance, like he had half expected Dennis to lash out like this, like he’s had years and years of practice. His voice is carefully controlled when he speaks next.

“Yeah, well, if I’m so pathetic, if I’m so desperate, then why the fuck did you come back in the first place? We were finally starting to get back to normal, or like, I don’t know,maybe an even better version of normal when you waltzed back in without any kind of explanation or apology for leaving us alone for over a year, Dennis.” Mac’s voice cracks, the way it does when he talks about his dad in prison, the way it does when he can’t but help but allow his carefully maintained facade of toughness to drop for just a moment.

Dennis sits frozen still, stunned. He wasn’t expecting this. He doesn’t know what he expected. Dennis doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but Mac’s eyes are glossy when he continues

“There were… weeks, Dennis. When I couldn’t get out of bed, when Charlie would come to make sure I was….” he flounders “to make sure I was okay. And even after that, I was trying so hard not to think about it I did so much stupid shit just trying to forget about y- to forget about it ” He clears his throat, raises his head slightly to look Dennis in the eye. “I was in a really bad place, man. You leaving didn’t just affect you.” He pauses, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. Dennis swallows, suddenly, against, a growing lump forming in his throat.

“And now you’re back and you keep talking about how much you hate me, or how annoying I am, or how much you wish you didn’t live with me?” he chuckles bitterly. “So what I’m having a hard time understanding is- why? Why, Dennis? Why did you leave your kid and your cushy life with Mandy and come back to Philly, back to our home, if I’m so goddamn terrible?”

Mac has these bright pink splotches high on his cheeks, his chest heaving with barely restrained emotion.

Dennis is paralyzed. He wants to flee. He wants to reach out and touch Mac. He wants to become as small as humanly possible, so small that no other person can ever see him again. He feels wetness forming on his cheeks, has no idea how it got there.

Mac’s body visibly deflates as he takes in the scene before him. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck for a long moment, features softening. Moving quickly, he steps closer to Dennis, reaching out to touch him, hand hovering near his shoulder before he thinks better, and it drops to its side.

“Fuck, man. It’s late.” he forces a watery laugh, hand running through his own hair. “We’re just tired, saying shit we don’t mean.” He won’t quite meet Dennis’s eyes. “I’m going to go get you that blanket.”

Mac exits the room, and swiftly returns with the soft blue flannel blanket from his own bed, wrapping it loosely around Dennis’s shoulders with gentle, careful movements. He sits next to Dennis on the couch, leaving enough space that their legs don’t touch, but Dennis can still feel some of the warmth radiating from his body.

“Did you know that blue jays mate for life?” Dennis asks, abruptly. Mac pauses in his fussing with the blanket to lean back enough to look into Dennis’s eyes, cautious and confused. His whole face shifts, like he’s on the brink of something, but can’t fully bring himself to understand exactly what’s taking place.

“What? I don’t-” he starts

“Their whole life,” Dennis manages, feebly maintaining eye contact, his nails digging into his own thigh as he forces himself onward. He chokes on his words for a minute before continuing. “ It’s just the one.”

“Dennis,” Mac breathes, his eyes wide with confusion, and fear, and something that looks suspiciously like hope. He reaches out and this time grabs Dennis’s hand where its curled into his thigh, squeezes it tight. “You’re okay. Dennis, it’s going to be okay.”

And for the first time, Dennis thought, maybe it was.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm araki-iasip on tumblr. I'm very fixated on Dennis's refusal to answer why he's still living with Mac, and with Mac's mental state when Dennis was gone, and interested to see what happens to their dynamic now that Mac has really made peace with his sexuality, SO.


End file.
